


The Looking-Glass Poems

by Adeline_Wrights_Fanfiction



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Love, Pain, Poetry, References to Taoism, Reincarnation, a fictionalized journal of sorts, pondering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Wrights_Fanfiction/pseuds/Adeline_Wrights_Fanfiction
Summary: White has lived her life as a prisoner to the Shade in her eyes. When she stumbles across the shattered old looking-glass housing an ancient, mysterious woman, she finds that her newfound freedoms are but the fetters to a still greater freedom.





	1. The Looking-Glass and What Hides Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> This story has long been completed, but I find myself making minor edits all the time. It is a personal journal through a fortnight in purgatory, a tale allegorical of a major crisis of my recent years. I hope that the honest emotion within will make worthwhile the lack of polish. If my tale may stir your hearts to motion - if I may impart to you my feelings of love, pain, and pondering - then I will consider the story a success. Be well, loves. Read on ~

Beyond the looking-glass she peered,  
Seeking gentler dreams than here,  
Where all her love could not contain  
The hateful spurn of Shade’s disdain.

Heiress to the grandest fiefdom  
In all the Land of Tales,  
The White begrudgingly existed  
Alone, forgotten, shameful.

It was well known in arcane lore  
That eyes were windows to the soul,  
But none were feared like those who bore  
The shadows in their iris whole.

And so it was that fair White’s stare  
Could summon shadows from the air.  
Daughter of scorn, an only child,  
Her parents cast her out, exiled.

Left to wander ‘cross the land,  
Seeking love and freedom’s hand,  
The Shade behind her eyes did smile;  
Another tear, another mile.

Cov’ring locks of silver hue,  
The White knew that the more she drew  
Attention to her startling looks,  
The more she’d be at risk of crooks.

For who would dare befriend a wretch?  
‘Twas souls like hers that could be fetched  
For pretty coins upon the market  
Of labor, slavery, and pigs dressed in scarlet.

Dressed in plainest traveler’s clothes,  
Fair White wandered ‘midst the rooks  
Nested in graveyards,  
Burnt bodies, and books.

The Shadow in her eyes laughed free;  
The death of knowledge was its glee.  
But in the ashes, a glimmer of light.  
Fair White couldn’t help feel the pallor of fright.

Yet still, she was drawn to the light of the sun  
Reflected off fragments which once had been one;  
A looking-glass, shattered and bled  
Showed not her reflection, but one Little Red.

At once, White whirled ‘round,  
For the slavers, she feared,  
Dressed always in scarlet,  
They always were near.

“Wait, please don’t go!”

A frantic voice did plead.  
The White looked again;  
That mirror, it seemed  
Was begging her lead.

“What sorcery is this?”

The White spoke not with fear,  
For fear of a mirror  
Was nothing compared  
To the notions her shadow adhered.

“Are you real?” The Red questioned—

From the one in the mirror,  
That question was brash.  
But her voice, so faint,  
Unspeakably clear:

“Please, I beg. Don’t return me to ash.”

And then came the cackle,  
That crackle of fear:  
“Oh, crush her to pieces!  
And then bring her here!”

‘Twas Shade who had spoken, had chanted the leer.

“I am sorry, Reflection.  
You aren’t safe with me here.  
My Shade must devour  
The light which draws near.”

“Please! I must needs have freedom.”  
“And if that freedom means death?”  
“Even death is a freedom I will gladly accept.”  
“You should value your life, however coldly it's kept.”

“I have been trapped here for lifetimes!  
You cannot know how I’ve felt  
To be without company,  
Or love, being held.”

White then shed a tear.  
She knew all too well  
That a lifetime alone  
Was certainly hell.

“As you wish, my lady.”  
White reached to the cinders  
'Neath the broken old mirror  
That held the poor soul.

Shade gazed hungrily  
At his soon-to-be feast.  
“Prepare yourself, m’lady,  
For the belly of the beast.”

“But first,” from the glass,  
“May I have your two names?  
I am Little Red of the Mirror,  
The Daughter of Flame.”

“I am the White of the North,  
Of the fiefdom of Ice.  
The wretch in mine eyes,  
But a nameless, dread phantom.”

“Enough! Enough!”  
Her eyes all but screeched.  
“Feed me my meal  
‘Fore I tear eyelids with teeth!”

A tear fell from White's eye,  
And Red felt it as rain.  
“Are you sure? This you want?”  
“I care not for the pain.”

Slowly, then, the White raised the glass  
Of the broken old mirror to the glass of her eye.  
The Daughter of Flame shut tightly her own,  
Preparing herself for what was to come.

The Shade, with glee,  
It greedily obsessed  
O’er that it possessed  
And for what it would

Soon come to own.

Tendrils reached for the power  
Like a delicate flower,  
For it knew there was magic in tow.  
It knew perhaps of the mirror,

But as the Flame did draw nearer,  
She fastened her gaze once again.  
Eyes of sunlight did bore into tendrils and scored  
Ancient runes running deep through White’s soul.

Shade shrieked,  
“You wretch! You infertile pest!  
You have tricked me!  
I’ll drag you to hell!”

White had no clue what was wrong,  
But that magics were strong  
‘Tween the forces which  
Fought for control.

“It was a lifetime!” Red cried,  
“Of misery and lies!  
Not one had cared for me so.  
And now one comes by, tells me not to die?

“I refute thee, Shade of the Throe.”

In a night-blinding blast,  
An earth-shattering crash,  
The White felt her body

Burn to ash.

Was it she who was dead?  
Yet she felt not the dread  
That surely accompanied so.

It was then that she realized  
The Red had materialized;

It was she who  
Lay trapped  
In the glass.

“What have you done?!”  
The White cried at the sun.

“I have saved you  
From more than you know.

“The Shade is now done,  
Twisted magics foregone,  
But there is still much.  
Let us go.”

“Go where?” the White asked  
As Red picked up the glass  
And kissed it  
With a bump of her nose.

“I fear I did not tell the truth;  
I knew of the darkness within.  
There was one chance to free your soul  
From madness, despair, and nightmares untold.”

“But who are you?” White asked.

“I am Little Red.  
I am the Fire Within.  
And with all of my heart,  
I thank you, dear friend.”

“Must I be trapped here as you were?  
Must a lifetime be spent  
'Fore I too may repent?”

“You’ve no need to do so.  
I’ve erased you of sin.  
But all magic has a price;  
You now pay yours within.”

“I did not ask for magic.”  
White wondered at the fabrics  
Of woven glass  
Which held her astow.

“No. You asked for death.  
Your eyes told me so.”

“Then are you to leave me?  
Or crush me and go?”

The Daughter of Flame gave a smile.  
“I’ll do nothing so vile.  
The price to be paid was  
Meant to be mine.

“But the Shadow, most foul,  
Did not deserve your fair crown.

"I had meant to seal it, imprisoned,  
In the glass sheet envisioned  
For the likes of such monstrous wiles.

"Yet so long ago, building  
Chain and the lock,  
I'd forgotten to which side I’d belonged.”

“I'd completed the prison,  
Yet with no foul decision  
I had found myself  
Trapped all alone.”

With a wave of her hand,  
Broken pieces did mend.  
“Alas, were you now free to go…”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” with a smile, “We must needs make travel,  
For you did not deserve what's been sown.”


	2. The Looking-Glass and Fevered Dreams

_Deleterious;_  
_So mysterious;_  
_Not delirious;_  
_They all can hear us._  
_Help me, dear._  
_Keep them out._  
_I can only do without_  
_All these voices that do shout;_  
_Little whispers in a drought_  
_Telling me that I should die._  
_Can you look me in the eye?_  
_Cast aside the horde of Grimm_  
_That torture me with a hymn._  
_Help me, dear._  
_Keep them out._  
_I can only do without_  
_These shadows haunting my reflection,_  
_Lying, waiting undetected._  
_Mirror, mirror, on the wall,_  
_Who’s most hideous of all?_  
_Could it be?_  
_Is it me?_  
_Kill me, kill me,_  
_Make me free!_  
_Only then can I be me._  
_“White?” A familiar voice_

* * *

In the gloom of the night,  
Disturbing White's hell,  
Cast now far from her sight.

A hand came to rest upon her,  
So gentle, a songbird,  
Its lilting refrain  
Drawing ‘wake with its verse.

The heiress opened her eyes,  
Remembering, surprised,  
That she lived now a world  
Cast in white.

Her gown was of silk,  
The finest of threads  
Glowing pale in the  
Moonlight overhead.

And the hand that had brought  
The tear ‘way from her eye  
Belonged to Red, the sorceress  
Once trapped here instead.

“You were having a nightmare,”  
Red mused, voice bare.  
A tune, lyric melody,  
An enchanting felony;

‘Twas a crime for her voice to so soothe.

White turned to her side,  
Saw her savior alight  
Through the window  
Where her body lay.

She would have been startled  
To see Red in the prison  
While she was so clearly  
Asleep in the hay.

“Where are we?” White asked.  
“How are you there yet inside  
Of this looking-glass prison  
You’ve made?”

“To-night we rest in the stable  
Of a town from a faraway fable.  
I am asleep to the world,  
Though in slumber I go where I may.”

White wondered aloud  
At the beauty of clouds  
And the woman’s  
Enchanting display.

It was then the Red’s smiled dimmed.

“Though I have saved your soul  
From the Shade of the Throe,  
It would seem that  
The nightmares remain.”

“How long were you trapped here?”

“I cannot know.  
‘Twas many lifetimes ago  
When I built myself  
Into this cage.”

“You are but a child!  
How can you harness  
Such power  
With such youth?

Such bewitching, beguiling beauty?”

The Red laughed and she shook.  
“Then I suppose we’re the same.  
Did you not know? The Shade of the Throe  
Often devoured the souls that it claimed.”

A gentle hand entangled with Red’s.  
White, resolved in her fastness,  
She fearlessly leaned,

Kissed the Red on her cheek.

“Whatever for?” with red on her face,  
Blooming like a rose in a garden untamed.

“Because your eyes are so tender  
And they dare meet my gaze.”

“How many years did you suffer  
That Shade’s evil haze?”

White leaned towards her flower,  
Near ready to devour her lips,  
Should she not back away.

But away she did move,  
And only too soon;  
So close they had come to cross ways.

“While I appreciate as much,  
Perhaps this can wait another day.”

“But why not today?”

“You know me not well.  
Perhaps time will tell  
If you find I deserve  
What you crave.”

Though the White gave a pout  
As she splayed luringly ‘bout  
The soft white of the mirror,

The Red denied her display.

“Sleep, White. Though your body  
Be preserved by magics,  
Your mind yearns in  
The twilight of morning.”

And to sleep, the White then returned.

* * *

When White’s eyes next unsealed,  
Her glass window revealed  
That they traveled a gait  
Much faster than before.

“Where are we?” White pondered.

“By horseback, the countryside dales.  
Good morning, young girl!  
Did you enjoy last night when we played?”

White flushed at the memory  
Where half-asleep, she’d indecently  
Advanced on the mage  
Who’d had the kindness to wake her

From the nightmare as it once again played.

The Red laughed, her voice light.  
“You did give me a fright!  
From your nightmare  
To desire so plain.”

She then lifted the mirror  
From the sash at her hip  
And flashed White  
A brilliant smile.

“And where are we going?”

White was still in denial  
That her freedom from pain  
Had imprisoned her again,

Though this time in a more pleasant way.

“We make way for Ember,  
The smile island of cinders  
Where my sister and father  
Remain.”

As Red trailed her last word,  
White’s soul must have curled,  
For Red had spent lifetimes  
Away.

“When you say, ‘remain…’”

“I mean what I say.  
They will be there,  
‘Er they stand  
Or they lay.”

The green of the grass,  
Of the meadows and pastures,  
The sounds of the cattle that grazed;

They all felt so new

To White, who'd only known  
The silence  
Of her death’s parade.

She wondered aloud  
At the glittering clouds,  
Of crystal pools as they  
Passed by a lake.

The countryside was magic  
Like none she had known before.  
Nature’s beauty was incomparable  
To mirrors, fell shadows, and the sagest of lore.

“Shall we stop here for a while?”  
Red’s cloak served to shadow  
The worst of the sun’s midday glare.

“Before we move past fresh water to Ember,  
Let us allow our steed a well-earned break.  
He must needs slake his thirst,  
As must you stretch your bones.”

“But I feel not the slightest bit frayed.”

“You are immortal ‘cross the looking-glass,  
But still you must partake  
The habits of your bodied self,  
That one day you will not mistake.”

“Mistake what?” White asked,  
Eyes transfixed  
On glittering pools of molten fire  
Rather than the shining lake of blue.

“You must not mistake, when once you return,  
That death might have forgotten you.”

For the first time, White saw more than Red’s eyes;  
Saw hair red like fate, saw her garbed in finery,  
Red cloak 'cross her shoulders; Rose pendant  
At her collar lit by light that did smolder.

“Red?” White asked. “Who are you, really?”

A wistful sigh belied a soul  
Much older than the girl Red portrayed.  
“Would that I could tell you all;  
The wars, the loss, the day of the fall.”

“The fall of what?” White asked,  
Though somehow she knew.

“The fall of the Tower,  
The mages’ refuge.”

“But that… That’s where I found you.  
In the rubble and wreckage  
Of its ancient estate.”

“What fire and flames hath buried,  
Thus scarred; destruction preserved,  
All perfectly charred.”

White lowered her head solemnly.

“The burning of the Tower was  
More than one hundred years past, Red.  
How old were you when it happened?  
How was it you survived?”

“One hundred years?” The Red sighed.  
"My sister will be furious.”

“Will be?” White balked.  
"What human could possibly  
Live for that long?”

The Red laughed and ran a finger along  
The rose that was her crest.  
“No human indeed, but  
An ancient, undying ember.”

“You don’t mean…”  
White’s words caught in her throat.

“The Eternal Pyre. I am a daughter of the flame spirits.”

“But wasn’t it the flames of the Pyre  
That sundered the Tower?”

“You ask who I am?  
I shall tell you again.  
I am Little Red of the Mirror.  
I am the Fire and Flames.”

“You ask how I survived? Let me say it anew.  
My soul burns with a passion.  
I am the Undying Flame.  
I am the Magus’ Ire.

"And though you know it not yet,  
I am both Coward and Liar.”

White’s face flushed at her passion,  
At the poetry of her names.  
But not once did she feel fear  
For the woman who held her

Like the precious, fragile thing she was.

“Do you blame yourself? How exactly—”  
“That is enough. I’ve run my mouth too much  
For pretty dames the likes of yourself.  
We must return to the road.”

Red returned the mirror to the sash at her side,  
Climbed atop her steed, spurred it astride.  
They rode on in dead silence save for the crackling  
Of White’s thoughts, curiosity flared to light,

Illuminating the looking-glass well into the night.


	3. The Looking-Glass and the Meanings of Red

Their journey to Ember,  
Uneventfully long,  
Led them to the coastline  
Where waters ran strong.

The Red grimaced. “The sea…”  
“It’s glittering, blue!”  
Fair White was enamored  
Of her window-side view.

“I hate open water.”  
“You can’t magic across?”  
“I can’t even swim,  
Let alone fly aloft.”

Still, undeterred,  
The Red soldiered on.  
“Not far is a port town.  
We’ll charter a launch.”

“Before we find people,”  
White worried aloud,  
“Perhaps you could hide  
The deep red of your shroud?”

But Red was indignant.  
“This red is my birthright!  
Rose pendant, my crest!

“You ask me to tear  
My very soul  
From my breast.”

White’s sorrow  
Was felt from the hem  
Of Red’s sash.

“You’ve been gone a long time.  
Red is the color  
Of slavers despised.”

The Red’s gaze burned  
With the sake of her name.

“It cannot be true!  
This color is sacred.  
The color of passion—  
Of love, and of life!"

“You will see soon enough.  
Though I’ve never been here,  
I’ve been far enough  
To know boldness in fear.”

The Red covered herself  
With the cloak she clung to.  
There would either be a fight  
Or they’d be too cowed to rebuke.

After some miles,  
A town neared the two.  
They had traveled in silence;  
White admired the view.

“Be careful,” White pled.  
“And you as well.”  
For both of them knew  
A talking mirror would sell.

* * *

Footsteps echoed  
Across barren streets,  
The only sounds ‘ere  
Being the waves  
From the beach.

“Is this town deserted?”  
Red scanned for a soul.

Not one could be found;  
Not even patrol.

“A town by the water;  
A town of commerce for sure.  
How can there be  
Nothing? And no one?”

Fair White felt the cold.

The houses weren’t  
Shuttered;  
No doors had been  
Locked.

The town was  
So empty.

There was no freedom  
In shock.

“At least,”  
White remarked,  
“We need not fear  
The fear of the people.”

“I am not unkind, White.  
I am not a slaver  
To fear, nor a  
Tyrant. Adhere  
Not to my sword

“But the strength of my word.”

Mist rolled in  
From the sea  
Frothed with foam.

“This is an  
In-between place.  
That is why  
No-one is home.”

“What do you mean?”  
White wanted to know.  
The Red knelt so gravely  
On the pavement, the stone.

“A prayer for those who  
Have passed before.  
May we too pass  
With swiftness and grace.”

Then she stood and made way,  
Though White knew not where.

The Red walked with purpose,  
Understanding,  
As if driven forward  
By something ancient.

“Do you remember what I said  
Of the stables last night?”

“I thought I was dreaming.  
You said we were in  
A faraway land.”

“And this horse will take us  
To wherever we land.”

“But we left the horse  
At the edge of town.”

“Did we?” Red questioned.  
White’s face turned to frown.

Then her ears were filled  
With the steady clop-clop  
Of the steed they had ridden  
Since the morning she woke.

Red patted its side,  
Took hold of its bridle,  
And sighed like a child  
Who'd been too long idle.

“Thank you, old friend.  
It is good to see you again.  
And though this time  
I’ve company,

You too are an end.”

“An end to what?”  
Then the sound of waves;  
They had reached the jetty.

There was a dock  
And the launch  
That the Red had promised  
At dawn. Or was it noon?

White’s memory felt wrong.  
It all happened too soon.

“Dear White,  
I admit:

“For a long time  
I’ve strained.  
For a long time  
I’ve fretted.

“I have lost my Way.

“After too long imprisoned,  
After too long abstained,  
I am about to shed lifetimes  
Of loneliness and pain.”

“Red?”  
Fair White could see  
In the girl’s eye a mist,  
A terrified, longing; a prize.

Where they went next,  
White feared it be won.

They set off in the dark,  
Though moments ago it was day.  
They set off alone,  
Though together were they.

Far off in the distance,  
A beacon of light.  
Red steered the launch  
Towards it,

Always kept it in sight.

That light. That light.  
That light Fair White realized,  
Was the Pyre in gloam.


	4. The Looking-Glass and the Spaces Between

_What yonder beach awaits me now?_  
_Will home remain or Dust prevail?_  
_The Pyre burns. Of this I’m sure._  
_Does my family await?_  
  
_Or cursed fiends and the scourge?_

My senses delude me.  
I know not where I am.  
Is dear Red still here with me?  
In the silence between,  
  
I hear no breath of life.

_For too long I’ve pondered,_  
_I’ve planned and I’ve schemed._  
_My prison’s unbreakable_  
_By one such as me._  
  
_I fear that Fair White will be stuck in-between._

May I call you  
My savior?  
My Fire and Flames?  
Have I grown too attached?  
  
I know you only by names.

_I’ve accumulated too much,_  
_Must needs empty the cup;_  
_Must return to the center;_  
_Must be one with myself._  
  
_My apologies, dear White._

Dear Red? Where are you?  
I’m alone and afraid.  
I have too lived a lifetime  
With no love conveyed.  
  
Is that why I seek it in you?

_My charge was so willing,_  
_Knowing none of my shame._  
_It will be burned in the Pyre._  
_I needn’t burden her brain._  
  
_My guilt will pass with me, not through me again._

I had nearly forgotten  
My prison of glass.  
This white is so spacious,  
This window so bright.  
  
Is it your light I see burning in the darkness?

_What does White see in me?_  
_She saw my red as with fear,_  
_Yet in my eyes she sees_ wonder _._  
_What wonders are here?_  
  
_My heart is raw from a lifetime of solitude._

Is it love at first glance?  
Am I too foolish, perchance?  
Yet my heart had so fluttered  
When we nearly danced.  
  
My lips had sought hers, but she pulled away.

_Her lips had sought mine, but I pulled away._  
  
_Was it fear that had stopped me?_  
_I saw her soul whole._  
_I know of her beauty;_  
_I know not my control._

Through the mist, a new figure.  
Her light has shined through!  
“My Red! My dear Red!  
Oh, how I’ve missed you!”  
  
Fair White’s voice called out in the gloom;

_The Red had heard her only too soon._  
  
_“White! Not yet!_  
_I’m—I’m not ready for you._  
_Please, a while longer._  
_I promise to return.”_  
  
“But where are you going?”  
  
_“Nowhere without you.”_


	5. The Looking-Glass and the Light of the Night

“Red?” Fair White questioned  
Once the girl was asleep.  
At once by her side  
in the mirror, “By your leave.”

“May I hold you tonight?”  
The Red grimaced, unsure.  
“May I just hold you?  
I’m lonely, you know.”

“So was I whilst imprisoned.  
I was all alone.”

“You have me now,”  
White smiled, implored.

“I’m made of fire, remember?  
I might burn you, you know.”

“I fear not the warmth  
Of an embrace, to be held.  
You say many things,  
But never once have you yelled.”

“But I do fear the touch  
Of she who dispelled  
A much-deserved agony.”

“Yet still, you pleaded.”

“Only to lure  
The Shade of the Throe;  
‘Twas a malicious beast.”

“Then all the more reason to not fear me.”

The Red sighed. Her voice cracked.  
“It’s not you that I fear,  
Yet my fear holds me back.”

“Do you fear being burnt?  
Dear Fire and Flames,  
Not some lover to be spurned?”

“How do you mean?”  
Red was cautious.

“I mean that I’m smitten,  
You dolt. How about that?  
This is a confession of love;  
Was it not clear  
From the moment we met?”

Red near left the glass.  
“I don’t deserve—”

“But what about what I deserve?  
I’ve lived a life – a human life –  
Of which I only have one!  
By my lonesome,  
In shame, and always on the run.”

Without awaiting reply,  
White dared lock her lips  
With Red, her dear rose,  
As if having a fit.

“Leave me now if you refuse.  
Return to your body,  
Leave me now to pine alone.”

In stunned silence, Red shed  
A single tear through her stare.  
She’d forgotten to breathe,  
Though she needed not air.

She needed to be held.  
Like a child, she wailed.  
The profundity of her  
Desire unveiled.

White reached out a hand.  
“Red, please. Won’t you let me—?”

“No! I refuse! It’s not fair that I’m free.”

“It’s not fair that I’m trapped.  
You’re not fair to me.”

“I’m not fair to myself,  
But that’s how it must be.”

And with that, the Red fled.  
White watched as she flew  
To the stars,  
To some faraway land;  
To somewhere White could not follow.

She wept plainly instead.


	6. The Looking-Glass and Secrets Unveiled

The mist, at last broken;  
In sight was the sea.  
‘Twas infinite around them,  
Save Ember 'fore thee.

The waves guided them gently.  
Red needed not steer.  
White breathed deeply, calmly,  
With her rose again near.

A deep breath and a sigh,  
Watching clouds pass them by,

“Before we arrive,  
I want you to know  
Why Coward and Liar  
Are names that I hold.”

It made White uneasy  
To hear the pain in  
Her voice. The shame;  
The deflation,

As if Red hadn’t a choice.

“I need you to judge me.  
For all of my years,  
I’ve sat amongst corpses  
Who once were my peers.”

The look of shock as  
Eyes crossed with eyes  
Spurred Red to go on,  
Knowing she’d be despised.

“I had abandoned my family  
In this life and more,  
Forsaking my upbringing  
In favor of lore.

“Arcane lore I devoured,  
Amassed intellect and power  
Beyond the Path of the Flame;  
Pursuing knowledge, I strayed.

“I ignored my own nature,  
Pried past Things As They Were.  
I defiled the stature of  
The looking-glass blurred.

“I trained at the Tower  
For ninety-nine years.  
When due to forfeit my station,  
My stubbornness adhered  
To routine, to everyday things;

“I neglected the life  
That demanded its rearing.”

“I don’t understand,”  
Said White through the glass.  
“Were you pregnant or dying?  
What then came to pass?”

“It was both, in a sense.  
As a flame sprite by birth,  
I must needs, on occasion,  
Return to the earth.”

White pondered.  
“Your words are still vague.”

“When we get to Ember,  
The vagaries will fade.

“But I neglected myself.  
That point needs be stressed.  
I held no accountability  
‘Til what had come next.

“Remember when I said  
My imprisonment, a farce?  
‘Tis here I am Liar;  
‘Tis next came the scars.

“The prison was built  
As my form grew unstable.  
Through magic, I’d sought  
To abandon Life’s fable.

“I’d intended all along  
To live in the glass,  
To study free from the form  
That demanded I pass.

“And ‘Tis here I am Coward,  
For Nature’s rebuke  
To the life unconsidered  
Became its repute.

“No magic is free.  
The price is never the same;  
I stepped through the glass,  
Became Fire and Flames.

“Cleaving my body  
From its worldly shell  
Unleashed twenty-two lifetimes  
Of fires from hell.”

“Then the flames of the Pyre…”  
White’s breathing was fast.  
She had pieced it together.  
She understood the Red’s past.

“You see it, then?  
I deserve not your affection.  
Countless lives were snuffed out.  
I brought an end to direction.

“I set back the pursuit  
Of knowledge by centuries.  
Then I lied in the ruins  
All alone and pedantic.

“May I have your judgment now?  
May I know where we stand?  
I will grant your desire;  
I’ll obey your command.

“I will drown in the sea  
If that be your demand.”

White’s brow became furrowed.  
She grumbled and hummed.  
“Is there anything else?”  
“The loneliness of the sun.”

“Please answer one question  
‘Fore I cast judgment on thee:  
When you cast out the Shade,  
Did you know you’d be free?”

“I did not.”  
Red was solemn.  
“No magic is free.  
No price paid the same.”

“Then I forgive  
Your transgressions.”

The Red balked. “Just like that?”

“All this time,  
You have suffered.  
Need I see  
More than that?

“And you seem now  
Accepting your nature.  
Why else would we  
Return to your home?”

The Red fell to her knees  
So hard that  
She shook their craft.

It shook and it rocked,  
Though White’s feet  
Remained flat.

“Just like that,”  
She muttered.  
Disbelief in  
Her shock.

“Can it be all so easy?  
I never thought  
I’d be free.

“I thought forever  
I’d languish  
In the flames that were me.”

“Red, please. For me:  
Do just one thing.”

“I’ll do  
Anything.”

“Be kind to yourself,  
As you’ve been kind to me.  
You’ve treated me well.  
Can’t you leave the past be?

“I don’t understand  
All of the things  
That you’ve said.

“The life of a flame sprite  
Seems something to dread.”

Red laughed the tears past her lips.  
“It’s actually quite nice  
If I keep out of my head.”

And before they had known it,  
Their launch ran aground.  
They’d made their way steady.

Red was home, safe and sound.


	7. The Looking-Glass and the Ember Atoll

“We’ve made it.  
I’m home  
After countless  
Years alone.”

“How long  
Were we lost  
In that maze  
Of hoarfrost?”

“I do not know.  
I do not care.

“Though alone  
For some time,  
We are bound  
Once again.”

Red held the glass  
Up to her face  
So that White,  
When she looked,

Saw not tears of disgrace  
But a face, hard and soft;  
Tears of remembrance,  
Tears seeking redemption.

Crimson eyes shone  
As if reflecting the moon  
Even though it was daylight;  
They’d found shore at high noon.

“White, thank you  
For traveling with me.”

“Did I have any choice?  
And will this set me free?”

“You always have a choice  
Even trapped in the glass.  
At any point, had you asked,  
I’d have turned you to ash.”

White thought for a moment.  
“You would have killed me?  
If I had begged for death?  
Is that what you mean?”

“Your eyes sought demise  
For longer than time.  
It was in saving your spirit  
You gave value to mine.”

White shivered—not from  
Chill nor from warmth.  
“What value is life with  
No shelter from storms?”

“Is that how you feel?  
That in suffering  
And pain, there’s no  
Life worth living?

“How had you survived ‘til this day?”

That shameful regret  
Of looking away:  
“I was afraid of the darkness,  
Though with shadows I’d lain.”

Red nodded, understood.  
“Though you are human, White,  
Though you have but one life,  
Let me show you what lies

“Between love and strife.”

Again, eyes met eyes,  
Faces stricken with tears,  
But now light filled crimson,  
And tentative blue.

“Let me show you that life  
Is more just than cruel;  
It’s more than just suffering,  
Needn’t shimmer like jewels.”

Red angled the mirror  
To face the shores of her homeland:  
The Eternal Pyre; the Ember Atoll.  
The island teemed with life, with sand,

And with love.

“I don’t understand,”  
Said White in a breath.  
“There is nothing but sand.  
How is life still here yet?”

So there was, as White  
Took it in; the plant life,  
The people, the beasts  
Not in pens. It was marvelous… 

The Red took a step in.

At once the lives turned,  
Took notice of them.

They rejoiced;  
Life was new.  
They were all  
Freshly born.

“It is your turn now, too.”

A woman approached  
From the center of the crowd,  
Hair impossibly golden,  
Like the flames of the sun.

Eyes of coral brought color  
To the desert of life,  
An oasis in the oasis  
That was Ember tonight.

But was it not day?  
Was it not just high noon?  
White wondered if time  
Passed her by all too soon.  
Red cheered and she whooped;  
“Dear Sister! I am home!”

“What has taken so long?”  
Her voice was as tendrils  
Of flame cooking bone.

She radiated power  
Like none White had seen.  
If Red slew her Shadow,  
What could this girl achieve?

“Were you counting the days?”  
The Red shuffled her feet.

“I was counting the cycles  
Of death on repeat.  
We know of what happened;  
What kept you away.”

“Then you know I’m not worthy  
To return to the Way.”

The Golden One shook  
Her mane of bright hair.  
“That is not how it works.  
The Way is like air.

“You may breathe it  
With ease; you may  
Breathe it in heaves,  
But breathe it you must.

“The Way is constant and free.”

Red cried once again.  
She was wordless in prayer.

“Come,” said the Gold.  
“You're the youngest yet still.  
Dear Father would not sire  
Before you were killed.”

At this, White’s alarm was profound.  
“Wait, what are you talking ab—”  
From her mouth came no sound.

More magics in tow?  
Who had silenced her throat?  
Why had Dear Red returned  
To this freakish death cult?

White peered ‘cross the sand.  
It glittered command;  
Decreed all life return  
To the flame, that it burn.

Then she looked to the life.  
This isle, paradise.  
It was not hers  
To cast judgment.

They walked now amongst  
The various forms;  
The humans and animals,  
All smoldering, warm.

The all glittered like stars  
That had yet to be born.  
White’s fear was overcome  
By her need to learn more.

“Dear sister,” They said.  
“Hello and goodbye.  
Let us scatter your ashes  
Across the blue sky.  
May your bones be reminded  
What it means to die.”


	8. The Looking-Glass and the Eternal Pyre

The night was a blur.  
White saw the sun stir,  
Then settle again  
As if waiting its turn.

* * *

“Dear Sister,” said Gold, “You have lost your Way.”

“Yet I believe,” replied Red,  
“That the Way brought me home.”

Gold threw back her head in laughter,  
Threw her arm ‘round her sister  
So they’d laugh together.

“I suppose that it has,”  
Gold said with a smile.  
“So how was it, then?  
Traveling mile after mile?”

“I’ve traveled far, but first  
Allow me to introduce White,  
The woman who cut down my noose.”

White was timid as she waved from her perch  
‘Cross the looking-glass hanging from Red’s flowing skirts.

“Hello,” she offered,  
Looking fully Confused.  
“‘Tis a pleasure to meet you.  
Are you half-human too?”

“I am not human at all;  
I am a spirit of flame.  
Though my form be a woman,  
We aren’t the same.”

White stopped not to wonder  
The meaning of her words;  
Gold’s hair became fire  
And she turned from the girls.

“Red, come with me.  
We must speak next  
With Father.”

The Red nodded and placed  
White’ mirror in view  
Of the Eternal Pyre.

“I am sorry, White.  
You cannot come in.  
The Flame consumes all;  
even those born within.”

The two then vanished  
Beyond the great pillar of flame.  
It flared with new life,  
Then was quiet again.

Within White flared a loneliness,  
For since the moment they’d met,  
Red had been by her side.

Tears threatened again.

But before they could fall,  
The Pyre came alive,  
And in all of its majesty  
Was a face ‘cross the sky.

“Fair White, Girl in Tatters,  
I thank thee for freeing  
My youngest of daughters,  
Kept alive yet not living

“By the mirror which  
Holds you captive,  
And as ward,  
Thus protected.”

Speechless at first,  
Then, in finding the words,  
White had some questions:

“Who do I address?  
Where is Dear Red?  
And who are the rest?”

“I am the Father. The First.  
I am the Unfinished Song.

“Red burnt to cinders.  
Her death was prolonged.  
The rest are but sparks,  
Lights flickered in fog.”

“She cannot be dead!  
Did she throw away  
Her life? She had  
Made me a promise.

“I pray you are lying.”

“Your prayers, unheeded,  
Are answered the same,  
For a flame sprite’s  
Rebirth is a matter of days.”

“Rebirth?” the White breathed.

“You were reborn as well  
In the moment when Red  
Released you from hell.

“Rest. Be not weary.  
My daughter will return  
With laughter in her heart

“And a readiness to yearn.”

At the Song’s words,  
White’s face crept  
With heat.

Did he mean  
Of her affections  
That Red would  
Finally meet?

* * *

White killed the  
Hours of the day  
Waiting anxiously  
For Red to return.

And as day turned to night,  
White did worry with fright.  
How many days must she  
Wait all alone?

What if Red was lost  
Forever? and White  
Forever embalmed?

White sought time to kill,  
Not aware of the life, of the thrill,  
The thrushes and birds.

White felt herself in   
Anxiousness blighted.

The Pyre, ever patient,  
Existing for always  
S ince b eginningless time,  
Watched in silent amusement  
Over White’s fretful disaster.

Then, on the dawn of  
The tenth day,  
Long after White  
Cried her tears away,

Red emerged radiant  
And wreathed in flame.

She took in the world  
As if for the first time.  
She smiled like the sun.

Then she remembered the pain;  
Twenty-two lifetimes again.  
She wept like the moon.

Then she looked to the mirror,  
Saw White looking drearier,  
And she smiled  
As bright  
As the stars.

And she spoke:  
“My dear White, I have watched  
As I burnt a lifetime of guilt.  
Seek me with hours to live,  
And not time to kill.”

* * *

When the night had next fallen,  
Red set her charge  
In view of the starlight,  
In view of the flowers.

Then, in plain clothes,  
She lay on her side  
Facing the looking-glass,  
Seeing not her own self,  
But White breathing fast.

“I do not mind  
Your eyes on me,  
But forget not  
The beauty

“Of the air and the trees.”

“What has lifted your spirits?  
What has made you so free?  
Even released from the mirror,  
You struggled to be.”

“It is simple, Dear White.  
I have shed the weight from my soul;  
I have remembered I’m me.  
I am once again whole.”

And with that, the Red slept.  
White watched her, the trees,  
The wind in the flowers,  
And then, suddenly—

A hand to her chin  
And a kiss to her cheek.  
White blinked in surprise:  
Red, beside in the glass.

“How do you come  
To slumber so soon?”

Red blushed and she smiled;  
“By counting the women  
Who lead me to swoon.”

It took White a moment  
To catch Red’s true meaning.

“And now I wish to count  
The presses of my lips  
Against yours.”

A fire lit her eyes.  
They were free of the fear.  
White stared deeply in wonder;  
She almost shed tears.

“Why the change of heart?”

“Because love need not be earned.  
Am I being too forward?  
You’ve been forward, yourself,  
But I dare not impose  
Where I may not be welcome.”

White shed her tears now  
With a longing smile;  
She kissed Red in full  
As she cast off denial.

And Red as well;  
She felt freedom at last,  
Felt the soul in her lips  
Shedding burdens long passed.

In their first night together,  
Hands carded through hair;  
Red’s short, reddish locks  
And White’ long, silver trail.

Their bodies molded to  
Each other as if melded to one;  
They lived in their lips as  
White breathed in the sun.

The Red grew excited,  
Gave ethereal heat.  
White drank it all in;  
‘Twas her partner’s need.

When again Red cried,  
So much was her joy,  
White kissed each  
Of her eyelids,

Red steaming and coy.

And they repeated  
Themselves;

The night was still young,  
They knew this fact well,  
Though somehow, it felt,  
That t ime was all wrong.

Hands wandered closer to the  
Silk of White’ hips, then were guided away;  
“I’m not ready for  _ that _ .  
Can we settle like this?”

And for all the night hours  
They lived in their hands and  
Their lips; tenderness, compassion,  
And touches like this.

Then one final kiss. “Farewell,”  
As Red awoke. Her first sight,  
As was planned, of the looking-glass,  
The flowers, and that  
Precious light of dawn.

For her twenty-third lifetime,  
Red and White would be one.


End file.
